


seth and james's very merry christmas

by sidnihoudini



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: M/M, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-10 18:30:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3299561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidnihoudini/pseuds/sidnihoudini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Honestly, the harem of teenaged girls that follow the guy around on Instagram have no idea how much shit Seth puts up with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	seth and james's very merry christmas

If you told Seth a year ago that he’d be on the run from North Korea instead of eating a warm holiday meal over at his mother’s house, he would have called you a total fucking liar.

But, as it stands, things go from a little shady to bad to worse in the span of about twenty four hours. It’s incredible how big the snowball gets once it starts rolling: one second he and Franco are doing their thing on prime time television, the next they’re receiving threatening emails, and a day later it ends with the studio pulling the rug out from underneath their feet. The two of them are assigned two separate, hulking bodyguards, and are given plane tickets going to opposite coasts.

The studio says it’s just a precaution - that they’re sure everything will be fine - but Seth is pretty sure that’s just the studio’s way of saying “I won’t come in your mouth.” He jumps every time someone reaches for him. They replace his phone, change his airline tickets three hours before he boards, and tell him not to send any messages (email, text or otherwise) or post on social media for the next few days.

Seth refrains; he hardly uses those things anyways, and they likely knew he wouldn’t put up a fight. Franco posts Instagram photos incessantly, taking the time to make his current location really fucking obvious as he geo-tags himself across the state of New York. The officer that got assigned to Seth (like, real CIA, no Lizzie Caplan shit) tisks and stares at him hard enough where calling Franco to rant about his dumbass behavior doesn’t even register as an option.

The studio waffles on releasing the movie; meanwhile, everyone that Seth has ever known since graduating high school texts him to ask if he’s alright. He replies after a few days, trying to be non-committal but encouraging. He has no idea how much of his shit these fucking North Koreans have access to, so he keeps his communication PG-13 and hopes that they never find the sex tape he accidentally uploaded to the cloud that one day.

Three days after they were shipped in different directions, Franco starts texting him. It’s typical weird Franco shit, none of which is new to Seth, though there seems to be more of it than usual. A few messages come through in quick succession while Seth is sitting on the hotel couch with a freshly rolled j:

_i miss my BEAR_

_where were you i waited for you all night_

_If I caught a red-eye do you think I’d be there in time for you to EAT ME?! im cake_

_sethy (SETHY)_

Honestly, the harem of teenaged girls that follow the guy around on Instagram have no idea how much shit Seth puts up with.

Seth sighs, and wedges his arm out from between his body and the arm of the couch. He’s been hiding out in a hotel room in West Hollywood like fucking Sid Vicious since he got back into LA. Luckily his cleaning lady had sent a Snapchat of the paparazzi setting up camp on the front curb of his house right as he was getting into LAX.

 _Where the duck are you? What are you doing?_ Seth responds, swearing underneath his breath when auto-correct emasculates him for the thousandth time in his iPhone career after he’s already hit “send” on the message. Just to make sure he gets his point across, he types in caps, FUCK, and sends that too - the cliffnotes version of his initial message.

The only thing James touches more than his dick is his phone, so Seth isn’t surprised to see the little grey “...” indicator at the bottom of their conversation a few seconds after sending his replies. He coughs, ashes his joint into the ultra clean looking crystal ashtray on the coffee table, and then leans back into the couch cushions.

 _new york - new york_ , is all that Seth gets in response.

“Fucking poetry bullshit,” He grumbles under his breath. Maybe it’s the weed, maybe it’s the fact he’s been camping out like a fucking fugitive for the last 72 hours - whatever it is, something inside him cracks and he thumbs their conversation until he’s got the option to dial James. And then he does. Fuck you, North Korea, he thinks, as the call connects. Fuck you, CIA. Fuck you, America. James picks up after two rings. “Fuck you and your flowery shit, stop being so fucking retarded.”

James starts to laugh immediately, sounding half-asleep as he yawns and makes a deep groaning noise like he’s stretching.

“I knew you would call,” He says, clearly happy with himself. Seth snorts and says ‘oh my fucking god’ underneath his breath as he leans forward to set his joint down and pick up his coffee instead. He’s bringing the hotel branded mug up to his lips as James continues, “What are you thinking about?”

Settling back into the couch, Seth frowns and balances the coffee mug on the arm of the couch. He’s thinking about a lot of things. Recently a lot of different shit has been on his mind.

“I’m thinking about how I’m going to have to beat the fuck out of you if you don’t stop making yourself an easy target,” He answers, frowning at the edge of the coffee table. He feels like his mother but less sentimental. He can also practically hear Franco grinning from here. “I’m not fucking around, man, you can’t screw around with this shit. Do you not have a fucking CIA agent lurking around you, too? This is some Alias shit, man. Fuck.”

There’s a second of quiet from James’s end of the line - Seth can tell he’s still fucking smiling - before he finally answers.

“I’m fine. Everything is fine. Don’t let it get to you, man. I’m safe, you’re safe, the movie’s still coming out, for fucks sake,” He answers. Seth tips his head against the back of the couch and stares at the stucco ceiling as he hears James shift around in bed. “Nothing to worry about. I’ll be back there for Christmas in two days, everything is fine. Business as usual.”

Seth rolls his eyes. This is not exactly business as usual. Business as usual would have been completing the press tour. Business as usual would be adding a few more cities onto their ongoing fuck locations list, circa 2007. Business as usual does not include living in a hotel room by himself when he’s got a perfectly good house twenty minutes away. He feels like he’s waiting for a fucking newspaper sex ad escort to arrive, or something. But instead of fucking and hard drugs he just has some burly dude wearing a bullet proof vest posted out in the hallway.

“It’s not business as usual,” He finally replies, trying not to sound too petulant. Fucking Franco. “I haven’t fucking dumped in three days, man.”

That makes Franco laugh again, more entertained this time. Then he says, “Put your Facetime on.”

“I’m not having phone sex with you. Sydney Bristow is probably listening in on this shit right now,” Seth starts, but inevitably cuts himself off as he pulls the phone away from his face to tap the Facetime button with his finger.

As the video is connecting, he leans forward to pick up his joint. He takes a drag as there’s a crackle on his phone; by the time he looks down, Franco is grinning back up at him.

“There he is,” Franco says, sounding pleased with himself. He looks pleased with himself, too, shirtless and bald which is still super fucking weird to Seth, as he lays there in bed with one hand splayed palm down across the middle of his chest. “I’m happy now.”

Seth tries to hold up his pissed off jew mom face, but it inevitably falls short when Franco’s grin fades into a smile and then he’s just staring at Seth, eyes crinkled and dark and warm. Fuck. When he and Evan were writing This Is The End, Seth hadn’t had a hand in Franco’s character. It was too weird, writing him, putting lines in his mouth, so Evan had taken most of the liberties there. It ended up being more truthful of a portrayal than Seth found himself comfortable with, even though Franco seemed largely unaffected by the whole thing. ‘Heart eyes, motherfucker,’ was all Franco had said, after Seth had asked him if the characterization was alright.

“I was thinking about the sex videos I have on my phone and it was giving me anxiety,” Seth finally says after a second, totally copping to it. He laughs a little after he says it, cause the whole thing is so ridiculous, and leans forward to set his joint roach in the ash tray. He’s got a suspicion that the cleaning crew has been pocketing his roaches rather than just junking them over the last couple days he’s been here. “Thank fucking god you didn’t email that shit to Amy like you said you were going to.”

His free hand is coasting back and forth over his bare chest, now. James smiles and says, “I still might. Fuck that.”

“You’re not emailing it,” Seth says, just to set the record straight. God forbid any kind of karma god overhear their conversation and take James on his word.

James laughs again and closes his eyes. The guy hardly ever sleeps, but on the rare occasion he does, he goes into hibernation like a grizzly bear.

“Whatever,” He finally acquiesces. “You still gonna pick me up from the airport when I get in on Wednesday?”

Reaching for his coffee, still so carefully balanced on the arm of the couch, Seth nods. “Yeah, of course. Your flight is at noon, right?”

“Yeah,” James nods back. When Seth glances back at the phone, he can tell James is still studying him carefully, ticking away all of the little movements and nuances that make Seth so strangely Seth. He sips at his coffee, now lukewarm, as James adds, “We gotta go to my mom’s, man. She’s having dinner for everyone. Dave is finally fucking bringing Alison. My mom’s freaking out.”

Seth lets out a low laugh and adds, “I shoulda held out longer, man. Built up some suspense.”

“Trust me, as soon as she found out you were Jewish there was no stopping her,” James grins, looking a little nostalgic at the memory. Seth remembered it well, unfortunately, it was super awkward the first time he’d met the mother Franco. She’d watched as he’d had sex with Katherine Heigl on a sound stage, and then shook his hand as he tried to cover himself with a robe. Meanwhile, Franco had been two trailers down preparing for his thirty second cameo with the same amount of enthusiasm that he’d somehow managed to harness throughout the rest of his movie career. “Little Sethy.”

Screwing up his face, Seth says, not for the first time in their relationship, “That is so fucking creepy, man.”

“I love it,” Franco grins. There’s a pause between the two of them as they regard one another, James still smiling as Seth stares back at him, enchanted even though he has no real reason to be. After a second, there’s a thump in the background of the call and Franco licks his lips, saying, “Alright, I gotta go. But I’ll see you on Wednesday, right?”

Seth feels a little disappointed despite himself, but nods and replies, “You got it. Wednesday, LAX.”

“Alright, babe, see you soon,” Is all that James says, before the call ends and he’s gone.

Fuck, Seth thinks, sitting there. If someone really is listening in on his conversations, he definitely hopes that they missed Franco calling him babe.


End file.
